Why am I so drawn to snapshots of decrepit old barns and cabins about to fall at the next stiff breeze? Sure, I like the shiny, red ones too, however can’t pass up the antiques that no one would want for their kitchen view landscape. The one on the right I call "eternal autumn."
Maybe because they symbolize the skeleton of stories. Fun on a long trip to think who lived there and why and what happened to cause them to move away and abandon their homestead. Now moss covers their memories.
Or it’s the clash of contrasts. These treasures pop out of fields ripe for harvest or lush forests or come with swamp land, but also sensuous views like these snow-capped mountains.
Recently I discovered this fairly new motor home parked next to a well-ventilated barn on the verge of collapse, way out in the Southwest boonies. Were they vacationers? Did they inherit the land and had many pleasant memories of summers with grandparents? Or did they have engine trouble and parked at the first site? Or were they temporary or permanent squatters? No one around to ask. I took my shot and moved on.
Last spring when the snow hadn't quite all melted, I got this find. . .what I call the ultimate "fixer-upper." The realtor might wait until things green up a bit to show this place.
Or perhaps do a tour of this barn that comes with a charming dormer window.
What photo ops can you not pass by without clicking or kick yourself because you didn’t bring your digital?
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